


Bump Into You

by ifIsayIneedyouxx



Series: Bump Into You [1]
Category: Larry Stylinson - Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bottom Louis, Boys Kissing, Cute Ending, Dirty Talk, Dominant Harry, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mild Language, Pining, Shy Louis, Sleepy Cuddles, Sleepy Kisses, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-04
Updated: 2014-08-04
Packaged: 2018-02-11 16:29:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2075088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifIsayIneedyouxx/pseuds/ifIsayIneedyouxx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry does something stupid but it brings him Louis. Except it takes Harry what feels like ages to get him to even say something back. And Niall and Gemma are up his butt trying to get him to admit how he feels about him. And it’s all very confusing because he’s pretty sure he isn’t falling for this completely stranger that doesn’t talk. </p><p>Or the one where Harry bumps into Louis, sees him from his flat window every night, and tries to get his attention without being a blubbering, clumsy, say shit that sounds way better in his head, idiot. And maybe it hits him like a wall in the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bump Into You

**Author's Note:**

> I literally just posted this to my Tumblr for a blog named pocketlarry, who I absolutely love. Comment? Let me know what you think? Do you like it?

It started with a bump, or maybe it was a shoulder shove, either way it was accidental. And he had it in his mind to offer to pay for drycleaning and a free bagel so it’s not like he’d done it on purpose.

Harry wasn’t exactly the graceful type, his pigeon toes kept him from ever reaching any life goals for dancing in the Royal Ballet. Learning that bit of bad news at a young age, just in case if he ever did grow up wanting to be a dancer, his pediatrician would have full leeway to say “I told you so.”

He wasn’t a dancer, preferring to stick to things his body could do. Except at seven in the morning, walking in a straight line wasn’t on the agenda.

Stepping out of a hole in the wall cafe that sat directly across from his closet of a flat, phone in one hand, coffee in the other, warm sausage and egg breakfast bun wrapped in a small brown bag clamped between his teeth, and The Art of Travel by Alain De Botton trapped under his arm, Harry didn’t expect there to be someone else walking in his general direction as he waved a backwards handed goodbye to the barrista. Since there usually was never anyone around on his street, at this hour, just for a coffee, or a stroll.

He also probably shouldn’t have been reading an article about how much sleep a day is considered a healthy lifestyle on his phone either. Texting and walking with his hands full never really worked out all that well for him. But his sleep muddled mind had for some reason forgotten that important detail. The thought “maybe you should watch where you’re going,” never once catching his attention. And then it was too late to turn back, everything sort of happening in slow motion, unfortunately. But not slow enough to where Harry could save it.

He’d bumped into someone, a short someone, and his “good morning karma vibes,” went to shit in about five seconds because of his mistake.

The horror show happened in four parts. One, his book dropping from under his arm onto the wet pavement, staining the cover a little, luckily it was from the library. Two, breakfast swinging forward from the sudden lurch and coming back to smack his chin. If it had a voice it’d probably be saying, “that’s for not looking up ya dingus.” Three, the hand that held his phone instinctively tightened, knowing that if the screen cracked from having been dropped that there would be no replacement for months until he could afford a new one. And then there was the coffee. Second slash incident number four.

Naturally he reached out to steady the stranger he’d so rudely shoulder checked. Except there was a cup of piping, hot coffee in the hand that went to save his innocent victim. And now that coffee was a big brown mess all over the poor persons, nice, white, but slightly wrinkled, top. Dripping off the end of the hem to the ground.

Slowly, his cheeks getting hot from the sudden shock of embarrassment and humiliation, he was never going to live this one down, Harry looked up to see whose day he’d just gone and ruined. The fact that it was only seven in the morning and the thought that this person was probably headed somewhere important making him feel worse. The apology that he was preparing in his head, ready to fall from his lips not feeling like it meant enough.

But he never got anything out, at least not to the persons face. He didn’t even get a good look at who he’d registered was definitely a guy, before he was being shoved right back. The stranger running past him, a quiet but curt, “don’t,” being the only thing he had to strain to hear before all he saw was the guys hunched back as he jogged away down the road. Red beanie being the last thing visible before it turned a corner and disappeared.

Shouting “m’sorry!” Feeling like total shit, groaning “sorry,” to himself now. Harry smacked both his legs for being so clumsy and then his head for being such a space cadet, before picking up his book from the ground, checking for cars, and crossing the street.

All the way up to the third floor of their, so old it was a surprise it was still standing, apartment building until he got to the threshold of flat number 302, did he talk to himself.

“Idiot. Probably gave him second degree burns on his chest or something. No wonder he didn’t want to talk. Idiot. God you’re so stupid.”

Jingling his keys in the lock, now that he had a free hand having tossed the half empty cup of coffee into a bin, Harry stepped in quickly, shutting the door behind him with a bit more force than he intended. His frustrations of how his morning was currently turning out getting the better of him. Giving him HULK strength therefore resulting in giving the door some major abuse that it probably didn’t deserve.

“What have I told you about talking to yourself mate? You’ll only get put in a mental institution if someone with any sense overhears the shit that comes out of your mouth.” 

“A simple, “welcome home flatmate, who went to get me a coffee because we haven’t popped down to Tescos to get any instant in three days. Even though, I. Niall James Horan. Haven’t had to work in the last two and could’ve gone to get some.” Would’ve sufficed thanks.”

Harry smart mouthed, attempting a thick Irish accent as he kicked off his boots, leaving them to keep the doormat company. Shuffling into the kitchen and setting his stuff down on the kitchen table. Huffing out an exasperated sigh as he collapsed into a chair. Stretching his legs out in front of him as far as they’d go.

Niall took the seat across from him, bowl of cereal overflowing with milk in hand. “You’ve really gotta work on that impression o’ me. S’almost sad watching you do it. And don’t give me any of your crap. I saw you spilling MY coffee on some poor bloke out the window. Didn’t even turn ‘round to get me another. Just tossed it in a bin.” Niall tutted as he shoved a spoonful of POPS into his mouth. Grinning at how funny he thought he was being.

“You saw that?” Harry dragged a hand down his face. Peaking at Niall through the spaces between his fingers.

“Yeah I saw that display of absolute hilarity, a memory that I will remind you of for as long as we both shall live. I’m the great Niall Horan, I see all that happens on this street.”

He waved his spoon around in a circle above his head. Sending droplets of milk everywhere like he was waving some sort of royal scepter. 

“So you’re the resident peeping Tom then? Shall I call the authorities?”

Harry kicked at Niall’s socked feet under the table, getting up to retrieve the breakfast he’d purchased before the accident. The stupid, stupid, accident. Christ almighty.

Niall just flipped him the bird, ending the conversation. And Harry was overjoyed that it was because he really didn’t want to relive what happened in grueling detail. Focusing on keeping his favorite green Volcom henley free of crumbs. Groaning around a mouthful of egg and cheese as a tiny nagging voice at the back of his head hissed, “trying to keep your top clean unlike that blokes out on the street are ya? Leaving him to stay covered in coffee while you get off scotch free.”

His own brain wouldn’t even let him eat breakfast in peace. Maybe he could shut it up if he hit his head hard enough. The table was made out of some solid wood, one of the few pieces of furniture they owned that wasn’t from IKEA. It had been given to him by his mum as a homecoming gift. Not knowing that it had been the king of beer pong tables on multiple occasions. If she ever knew, she’d kill them both.

“So, was he cute?”

An hour and a half had passed since breakfast. All thoughts of any coffee spills and shoulder bumps having past before Niall brought it up again from his spot on the couch. Setting up his new World Cup Brazil FIFA game that he’d bought with money he doesn’t really have.

“Sorry? Wasn’t listening.”

Harry forced his nose out of page 45, looking over at the back of Niall’s blond head from the kitchen table. Still not having gotten up, only to make a cup of tea. It was a really good book.

Scoffing, “I know you heard me Styles. Was he cute?”

“Was who cute?” Niall was being ridiculous and making absolutely no sense. Harry rolled his eyes before returning to his book. “I think you’re the one that needs the institution mate.”

“Ah, there it is. Stage one’s always denial! You think the shoulder bump coffee boy is fit don’t you?” Niall singsonged as his players ran around on the tv.

The audio of cheering fans drowning out Harry’s cough as he choked on his sip of tea. Not expecting to hear that come from his flatmate. The burn of hot Yorkshire getting caught in his throat making his eyes prick a little with unshed tears. Fish mouthing as he tried to defend himself without giving Niall the opportunity to come up with any reason to make fun.

“I didn’t even see the guys face Niall, so how would I know.”

“He was kinda small though wasn’t he? Like proper short.”

Harry did remember noticing that during all the commotion. His underarms probably being the spot where the strangers shoulders reached. But it’s not like he’d see him again. Probably just one of those, “have a moment and then never see each other,” sort of encounters. So there was no point in thinking about how that much of a size difference was a bit of a turn on to him. Staying silent and turning to page 50, leaving Niall to his game.

-

Harry was in the middle of brushing his teeth and studying an extra springy curl on the side of his head when Niall popped through the door. An extremely amused look on his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Disrupting his nightly dental hygiene routine with a bark of laughter and a flat handed smack right between his shoulder blades. Making him hiss a little, knowing there was probably an outline of Niall’s right hand now temporarily tattooed on him.

“Harry, stop what you’re doing right now. You have got to come see this.”

Spitting out into the sink, turning on the tap to wash his minty mess down the drain, only a tad bit irritated, “it better be good Ni or you’re going to wake up to an airhorn in your ear.”

“Oh it’s good Harold. You might just shit yourself.”

“Right, I’m going to inform you now, that unless I’m some giant un-toilet trained baby, stuck on an twelve hour flight on a plane with no bathroom cabin, or blackout smashed, I will never. Ever. Shit myself.”

Niall led Harry into his mess of a bedroom laughing at Harry’s warning. The dirty clothes littering what looked like a wood floor making Harry tut. He’d have to sneak in and clean it one of these days before there was no floor to even step on or catch a glimpse of. Pulling up his blinds, Niall motioned for Harry to stand directly in front of his tiny window, that had the perfect view of the cafe across the street. It was dark out, the only provided light was coming from a rusty street lamp that hovered over the neighborhood bus bench.

“What am I supposed to be looking at?” He didn’t exactly see anything out of the ordinary.

“Look, a little to the left of the cafe.”

“It’s dark out Niall, if you want me to see what you’re seeing I’d suggest we wait for morning.” Harry stood straight, giving Niall a sympathetic pat on the arm. But Niall just shook his head and pointed out the window again. Clearly not hearing any of it.

“Just wait, look one more time and you’ll see what I’m talking about. I swear to god you will regret not looking a second time for the rest of your mundane life if you don’t.”

Rolling his eyes, humoring Niall, Harry bent down resting the heels of his hands on the window sill and let his eyes adjust to the darkness outside again. After a few seconds of nothing, he saw it.

A dark body moving around on the street with, what Harry recognized as a red beanie, attached to it. It was the guy from this morning. Well, he was pretty sure that it was. Skateboarding around on the sidewalk, jumping off the curb, going around in circles, up and down the street before falling quite painfully on his bum on the cement. Harry winced averting his eyes a little, because that looked bad.

And a part of him really wanted to go out there and offer some first aid assistance. Because he wasn’t standing up, sort of just sitting where he’d landed with his head between his knees.

“Shit. You think he’s alright?” Niall pressed his nose against the glass, like that would help him get a better view.

“I don’t know. Should-should we go help him?”

Wouldn’t that be an awkward conversation. Harry could just see it all coming together in his head. Rushing out the buildings door in his bare feet, with an icepack, antiseptic, bandages, like a bloody EMT. Niall stumbling behind.

“We saw you fall so we brought supplies. Hi I’m Harry Styles and I wasn’t just watching you through my flatmates bedroom window like a proper creep. Now, lets look at the damage and patch you up shall we?”

Yeah, definitely not the best idea.

“Maybe we shouldn’t. I mean, Niall,” Harry took a step back and did a Vanna White “look at what we’re doing,” sort of arm movement.

“That’s true. Man, now I feel kinda weird. I’m the one that was watching him first for like five minutes before I went to get you.”

Stepping back to sit on the end of Niall’s bed, “how did you know it was actually him though?”

Niall kept watching the guy intently, a part of Harry’s heart was being tugged on as he wondered if he had gotten up from off the ground yet.

“Red beanie sort of gave it away, plus the height thing we discussed earlier. Ohp, yep there he goes. He’s walking it off, looks like he’s done for the night.”

An internal sigh of relief strangely washed over Harry as he stood up and got himself ready for bed. Laying in the dark of his bedroom, shifting around on his mattress, Harry tried to think about why he was so drawn to helping the guy when he’d fallen. It’s not like it was his first time seeing someone eat it on the pavement like that. What he couldn’t quite figure out was how come when he sees strangers get hurt he never feels the urge to patch them up. But for some reason this guy made him feel nervous and anxious. Made him silently pray that he could keep himself from thinking irrationally and dialling 999. Because he had been counting down the seconds until Niall had told him that he was up and walking it off. Wondering how long should he wait for the stranger to stand up before getting him in a hospital for fatal bum injuries.

“You’re just a caring person when it comes to people that give you a guilty feeling. That’s wha-”

A heavy thump came from the outside of his bedroom door, “shut up and go to sleep Haz.” Niall begged in a sleep gravelly voice. Harry could hear the floorboards creaking under each foot step as Niall returned to his bed.

-

“Large Americano and a blueberry bagel, no cream schmere.” Harry waved and picked his order up from off the counter.

“Looking smart today Styles.” The barista, a uni student named Jackson who always felt the need to call Harry by his last name gave him a wink. Harry had to look down because to be honest, for a moment, he didn’t remember what he’d put on this morning.

“He just painted his legs black and stuck a button up on J, it’s not like he’s a London suite. All choked up with a tie headed to the office.” Niall cut in, grabbing his cappuccino out of Jackson's grip before ushering Harry towards the door.

“I swear Harry, that guy is gone for you. Maybe take him out before he dies of a broken heart?”

Nearly tripping over the welcome mat of their usual breakfast hot spot, “Why, Niall? Why do you always assume that everyone wants to date me?”

Puffing out his chest, “because I’m your flatmate. It’s my job to get you laid my friend. I’m sure Jackson’s up for it.”

Harry just laughed at the absurd idea around the lid of his coffee cup, squinting a little as he stepped out into the 7am morning sun that was just breaking over the hill they lived on. Making the hoods of the cars that lined the street blind them both for a moment. Niall being the smart one and throwing on a pair of sunglasses, before sitting down on the bus stop bench. Sticking his backpack on the ground between his feet and leaning back. Laying one arm over Harry’s shoulders, lazily sipping his coffee around a yawn.

“It’s not all about getting it in Niall. There’s a lot more to a relationship than just sex.”

“Bollux.” Niall half yelled, still too tired to hit full volume.

Shushing his idiot of a friend, because out of the corner of his eye he could see a caramel haired someone making their way down the street towards them. “You wanna offend the whole neighborhood? Christ Niall. Here,” Harry shoved his bagel into Niall’s hands, sacrificing his breakfast for some quiet. “Eat this and don’t curse so early in the day.” He’d buy a banana once they got off their stop at Paddington.

The commute to work wasn’t exactly the best one. Both him and Niall having found jobs in central London but needing cheap housing. So, since neither of them had a car, multiple transfers to central London would have to do it.

Niall, was a graphic design artist for a small company that made adverts for local shops. It was a really good job. Paid well, and, the office was sick. Not your normal cubicle, life in a box, everything in a different shade of grey ,or darker grey sort of place.

“Hey mate!” Niall startled Harry, making him jump a little and spill coffee on his hand, still not fully awake yet.

“How’s the chest? Got any scarring coffee burns on it?”

“Who’re you talking t-”

Now Harry was 100% if not an extra 50% more alert than he’d ever been at 7am. Realizing after getting his brain to wake up and put two and two together, that it wasn’t him Niall was now shouting at. Because the last time he checked he didn’t have coffee on his top. Turning his head to the side, Harry caught a glimpse of a small, tan, body coming to a halt a few feet away from them. Niall’s fat, blond head, blocking his view from the persons face.

“I’m sorry. Am I supposed to know you?”

The voice was snarky, not the “I’m better than you so fuck off and don’t touch me,” sort of snarky. Just the, “my mum taught me to never talk to strangers, and to act all tough to defend myself when I meet them,” type.

“Yes! Well no, I saw you-”

The faceless voice cut Niall off before he could even finish, Harry just shifted uncomfortably and listened. Not really sure if he wanted to get noticed. He’d seen the stranger outside of their sitting room window every night since Niall had pointed him out almost a week ago. At exactly 11:45pm he’d see him getting off the bus and for an extra thirty minutes or so just skate around in the street before heading off.

“You saw me? What. Are you like, stalking me?”

Looking over Harry could see a ratty pair of Vans connected to a pair of ankles, so small Harry could probably wrap his whole hand around them easily, take a few steps back from where they were sitting on the bench.

“What? No! No it’s not like that. We-”

“We?”

“Oh, almost forgot.”

Shit. Here it comes. Harry tightened his grip on his coffee cup, heart racing at how nervous he was suddenly getting. What was wrong with him? He wasn’t ready for this, that’s what was wrong. He just wanted to be the guy. The guy, that watched a stranger out of his flat window trying to figure out why he was feeling so funny for someone he’d never been introduced to in his life. He still didn’t understand what it was. Just a massive shit storm of confusion and tight chested nights.

“You’ve met my friend Harry before. Remember him? He spilled coffee all down your front? Who could forget something as-mmph.”

Putting on a brave face, Harry leaned forward, his hand holding the bagel that he’d taken from Niall and shoved in his stupid mouth. Keeping him from saying anything else.

“Hi. Sorry about him. Chew your food Niall, that’s a good lad.” Harry introduced himself over Nialls muffled wild protests around the mouthful of blueberry carbs. Not exactly the way he pictured their first meeting, but hey, at least it was a step up from window hovering.

The stranger was definitely not what Harry had imagined he’d look like in his mind. He sorta pictured a clean shaven faced, toned biceps, perfectly quiffed, but small bloke. Instead he was left with the complete opposite. This guy was like a walking cluster fuck, but it sort of worked for him? It was weird, not bad. He was fit yeah. But, just, not what Harry had been expecting.

He was tan, that was the most noticeable thing. And if he was stood next to Harry, he’d make Harry look like a girl with the wrong tone of foundation on. Just significantly more pale.

His style matched the skateboard boy stereotype pretty well. Tight skinny jeans, dark colors, Vans with the laces tucked in. The only thing that didn’t match was the rolled up hem of his black denims. It made him look softer, or less like he’d punch you in the face at first encounter.

He had one of those faces that held a million expressions. His eyebrows alone, which were currently knitted together in was it, irritation? Harry couldn’t tell. Probably held at least a hundred of those million expressions. His jaw and cheekbones were sharp and defined, covered in a light scattering of scruff. Scruff that also surrounded very thin lips that were currently being chewed at by gleaming white teeth. Canines biting down sharply into his bottom lip repeatedly.

And he was thin from front to back. Side to side was a different story, soft curves making up the rest of his torso. And his legs. Calves toned but thighs thick and strong. Harry had to catch himself before he imagined something very inappropriate for him to be thinking about. Especially when he was just now seeing him face, to face.

And this guys hair, chocolate, breakfast tea colored fringe swooping over his forehead. The rest sticking up every which way like a bunch of little, swirling, tidal waves, or a artistically sculpted gelled mountain range. No beanie today. Harry kinda liked the beanie. Maroon and dark caramel went well together on the color wheel of “things you like to see on a brunet guys head”.

“You’ve been watching me from your window?”

Those thin eyebrows going from being stuck together to being raised in curiosity in less than half a second. Arms crossed over his small chest, tops of his collar bones showing themselves off at the deep scooped neck of his shirt.

That was the first thing spoken back to him. And now Harry wanted to take Niall back to their flat and whack him multiple times, with multiple inanimate objects for having brought that up. Some best flatmate he was. Digging Harry his own grave for him, packing down the dirt over his body, and then leaving him to dig himself back out. Fantastic.

“No, I-we saw you from our living room window one night. Skateboarding and stuff. It was just one time, I swear,” this wasn’t going well. Harry tried to save himself but he felt like he was just sinking deeper into the dirt pit he’d been thrown into.

Greyish blue eyes rolling around, long eyelashes framing them, “right. And I should believe that story, that’s clearly meant to save yourself from this awkward moment because?”

Wow this guy was good, Harry honestly was starting to feel a little vulnerable. A part of him registering that his mind was practically being read with every word he spoke between them. He wasn’t being allowed to hide behind what wasn’t true. It’s not like he didn’t like being honest with people. But when it came to the point where if he was honest he might get a restraining order? That’s where he would slip in a little white lie or two. But only if he really, desperately, needed to save his own ass from situations that he needed to pull himself out of. But they weren’t working this time.

Maybe if he… “are you waiting for the bus too?”

“You’re changing the subject.”

Damn. Well, he was fucked.

Harry looked to Niall, not really expecting any help because now he’d been caught in a game of cat and mouse. Trying to escape the extreme awkwardness that was now forming a tense bubble around the entire street. Motioning with an elbow bump to the shoulder for Niall to now use his mouth for more than just eating. And speak about something other than the fact that Harry was being judged for being a creep. Which wasn’t entirely false.

Because yeah, if you looked at it, he was being a creep. Practicing the ways of a stage one stalker probably.

If those intense, storm at sea, eyes weren’t boring through his entire body right now, reading him like a book, he’ve had his head in his hands. With one last pleading look, Niall spoke up with a pat to Harry’s knee in silent affirmation. His face saying, “I forgive you for nearly choking me with a bagel.”

“Details are for the damned, you don’t need the whole story. Sorry though mate, I don’t think we’ve all shared names yet? You can tell me, I promise I won’t tell him.” Jabbing a thumb over his shoulder at a shattered Harry before reaching out a hand that was waiting to be shaken. Dropping it after a few silent seconds when he realized he wasn’t going to get one.

“Well, this is one hell of an interesting morning, isn’t it. Harry? Anything else you’d like to say the the nice man before our bus gets here? You’ve got like two minutes unless it’s delayed. Then in retrospect you’ve got maybe five or six minutes to get to know each other.” Niall stood up, slinging his backpack over one shoulder and walking a few steps away from them. His profile made up of one massive, typical, Niall Horan grin.

“I’m not like, mental or anything.” Harry broke the ice, feeling the strongest need to validate that fact. Just in case they ever happened to cross paths another time. Not sure if this guy was the type of person that would cross the street the moment he spotted Harry because he wanted to avoid him. Needing to prove that he was a safe, law abiding, young and charming bachelor. Zero weirdness.

Leaning on the rusty metal post that made up the bus stop sign, “I sort of figured that out for myself thanks.”

There was a light sort of laughter to his voice just then. And it was like a breath of fresh air to Harry. Like he’d just surfaced on dry land after drowning for so long. Feeling less like an idiot now that none of what Niall had said had been taken seriously by the guy. Or at least most of what Niall said wasn’t taken seriously.

“Do you want to sit down? Um.”

Harry scooched over on the bench some to make room. Giving him a tentative smile, not wanting to scare him off now that he had a second chance at making a proper, good impression.

“It’s Louis. And, no.” Giving Harry his name in a rush of words, like it freaked him out to just hand out information like that, before tagging on a, “thank you.”

Just then the bus came revving around the street corner, interrupting Harry from making conversation. Harry hoped he’d be able to continue where they left off once all three of them had stepped on and taken their seats. But after sitting down, keeping a seat empty to his right with Niall on his left, did he notice that Louis had tucked himself away in the farthest back corner of the giant, metal, behemoth they took to work every day. Earbuds already in and eyelids closed, forehead resting on the window as the bus surged forward.

“Looks like he’s makin’ you work for it Haz.” Niall noticed.

-

For the rest of the month of September Harry would see him.

Louis would walk up to the bus bench, lean on the pole, earbuds in, gloved fingers beating out a rhythm on his hip, give Harry a small smile of acknowledgement but not say anything. And then he’d sit in the same seat on the bus, in the far back corner, eyes closed every time until they would reach Paddington where Harry would lose sight of him. Only to see Louis again at 11:45pm getting off on their street, walking past the cafe, to whatever place held his bed.

Harry wondered why he’d never noticed Louis on their commute before. He also wondered why he wondered so much about Louis. He hadn’t had a single day that week go by where the thought of, why doesn’t he talk to me, where does he work, does he even have a job, I wonder if he’s afraid of going home when it’s so dark out, or, he looked really good with a clean shave today, cross his mind.

The worst part of it all was that he wasn’t bothered by it, when any other normal person would be, by constantly feeling itch to think about these things. Things that didn’t include him in any way, shape, or form. Harry wasn’t apart of Louis’ life. They were just two people that knew each others names, and waited at the same bus station.

Why did it matter to him when Louis didn’t get off the bus at his usual 11:45pm time the other night? Making his anxiety sky rocket as he sat, knees bouncing, staring out the window until 1am when the last bus came. Leaving a very slow moving, slouched shouldered, figure behind in it’s cloud of dust and exhaust. Relief flooding through his entire body, wired mind finally giving him the time of day so he could sleep peacefully.

“It’s a little embarrassing Harry, how much your pursuit to be friends with the guy has taken over your curly head. Mum always said you’d fall for the one’s you can’t get.”

Mumbling around his bite of tuna cucumber sandwich, “I haven’t fallen for anyone Gem. I’m just sayin-”

“Alright, you’re just saying, I get it. Chill out.” Gemma held her hands up in defence. Pretending to zip up her lips that were turned up at the corners, lock them shut with an invisible key, and throw it away over her shoulder.

Harry was sat on the ground, enjoying the gift of Autumn sun, which was extremely rare. His ratty old black cardigan underneath him, meant to keep his bum from getting damp from the grass. Explaining to his sister Gemma, who was in town visiting some friends, and her most favorite baby brother, what he’d been up to. And the topic of Louis may have come up somewhere in the conversation. Mixed in with how well Liverpool is doing and if either of them had seen the new season promo for In The Flesh.

But he needed advice, was practically gagging for it, dirty joke not intended. He couldn’t just throw all these girlish thoughts and feelings on Niall. Because A) Niall would never, ever, let him live it down. Would probably laugh and then tell him to have a beer and grow a pair. And because, B) The last time Harry asked Niall for advice had been when he was going through his, I should get my first tattoo, phase. And Niall had told him that a fat, filled in, black star on the inside of his arm would make him seem more bad ass. Told him that if he “flexed his arm muscles, he could make the star bigger and that was supposed to be hot.” And now he had a permanent memory of that and it was one of those shit advice moments that he couldn’t exactly scrub off with soap.

And Gemma was there, listening to him rattle off all his circling thoughts, and she was his sister. She was home, and comfort, and the one person who just might understand exactly what he’s been dealing with. Maybe even understand it more than he was able to himself. Maybe help him decipher why he was getting so worked up over something that could so easily be dropped.

“Two weeks now, it’s just the same thing. I see him, he smiles, he’s gone, he gets off the bus, and it all repeats. And I’m practically killing myself over this because, fuck-”

“Language Harold.”

“Sorry.” Harry corrected himself, “because frick, I don’t know why I’m so set on knowing him. I can’t grasp it, what I’d call this-this-”

Cutting him off, “you sure you haven’t fallen for this Louis guy? I mean, like, really, really sure?”

“Yes I’m sure. Besides, you can’t fall for someone that you’ve never really spoken to. Gem, I don’t know him.” Harry bit into his sandwich again, giving himself a breather, and letting Gemma take control of their discussion for a moment.

“You don’t always have to know someone, all their quirks and what pushes their buttons, in order to feel something for them. Christ Harry, your generation can be so stunted when it comes to life experience sometimes. It’s very disconcerting.” Gemma uncapped her peach tea and took a sip. Letting what she’d said sink in, eyeing him as he chewed.

“What do you mean stunted in life experience?” Harry spoke up after a few minutes of quiet, picking at some crumbs that had fallen in his lap. “I have loads of life experience. Moved out at nineteen, got an internship, now it’s an actual job.”

“Yes, and I’m so proud of you for it baby brother. You’re the talk of Cheshire, and I have full bragging rights. Harry Styles, once amature baker, now works at Instagram HQ London. Biggest hipster alive.” Gemma wiped at an invisible tear, dodging a light punch that Harry had tried to throw in her direction.

Laughing, “shut it.”

“But listen H. What you make up for in that, the whole getting a career and moving out and becoming an adult thing. You’re seriously lacking in the understanding of having affections for someone thing. Not involving all that fictional “love at first sight, fully realized love,” shit.”

“I know that.”

“Do you really? Because it seems to me you’ve got a boy on your mind that you’re scared to commit to.”

“I am not scared. I can talk to him if I wanted. And I am not gone for Louis so stop thinking it please and lets just go do some retail therapy with no further comment. And lastly.”

“Yes?” Gemma stood, brushing off a wet leaf from her skirt.

“I am not, an amature baker.”

Harry crumpled up the paper that once held his lunch into a ball. Convincing himself more than Gemma of what he’d just said. He could talk to Louis. It’s been two weeks with nothing spoken between them, and the reason for that was because no one had made a move to. And if Louis wasn’t going to be the one to do it, then maybe he should.

-

“Erm, can I get two small caramel apple ciders please, and I think that’ll be it.” Harry dug his hand in his back pocket, pulling out the wad of cash he’d grabbed from his side table. Smoothing out the money on the counter before handing it over. Paying for his order, and giving Jackson a friendly smile.

“No coffee today Styles? That’s new.” Jackson handed over his change, but Harry just dropped the coins into tip jar as usual. Shaking his head and leaning on his elbows watching Jacksons’ back as he concocted his drinks.

“New month, new me I guess. October’s a good time for change so I’ve been told.”

“I’m pretty sure the new month, new you is more of a January sort of thing.” Jackson joked, drizzling caramel into two small, empty cups, before pouring hot cider in. Waving two cinnamon sticks over his shoulder, probably knowing Harry was watching him, because Harry always liked to watch. “A special add in for ya. Makes it taste sweeter. For the new you.”

“Thanks.”

“Welcome.” Jackson scribbled two X’s in permanent marker on one cup, right underneath Harry’s last name. “So, Styles, I’d been meaning to ask you something for a while now.” Jackson turned back around, piping hot drinks in both hands, lids on, warm apple smell coming out of the hole in the lids in curling wisps of hot steam.

Grabbing them, letting the cups warm his cold and clammy hands, something crossed the front of the cafe in his peripheral vision, catching his attention. Completely forgetting that he should be polite and listen to what Jackson wanted to say to him. But Harry’s mind was now preoccupied with the fact that Louis, a very cold looking Louis, was sitting on the bus bench. Leaning forward slightly and looking up and down the street like, like maybe he was searching for someone.

“You’re amazing J, see you later yeah?” Harry practically jogged out the door, backpack bouncing on his shoulder, drinks sloshing in his hands. The biting chill of the morning air hitting his face and making the tops of his ears sting a little. His breath coming out in baby clouds, evaporating in seconds, after every exhale.

The realization that Louis was sitting. Like actually sitting down and not leaning on the pole with earbuds in was making him even more hopeful that his plan might actually work. Getting Louis to sit next to him was the hard part, all night he tried to think of a good way to get him on the bench. Talking one liners like, “you know, it wouldn’t feel as cold if we shared body heat,” to his reflection in the bathroom mirror before bed, and early when he woke up as he cleaned his face.

It had taken him two more weeks after his and Gemma’s discussion in the park to prepare for today.

Deep breath, Harry shuffled forward, stepping in front of Louis’ legs that were stretched out, and sat down in the empty spot on his left. He was wearing socks today, covering the spot where his ankles should be showing under the rolled up bit of his jeans. Warm bobbled hat sitting on top of his head, fringe peaking out from underneath, swooping over his forehead a bit. The jacket he had on didn’t look like it was all that warm. His lips tinged blue, a slight shiver giving him away every few seconds.

“Cold today, innit?”

Louis gave a sniffle in response, his eyes sticking to the other side of the road.

Harry looked to the sky for a brief moment, reminding himself that it was going to take a few tries to get Louis to warm up to him. He knew that he might be the only one that says anything at all, but he didn’t mind. As long as Louis didn’t shy away, then he was fine with looking like he was talking to himself.

“I-I got this extra drink for Niall? Not sure if you remember meeting him, blond, Irish, loud. But it looks like he hasn’t gotten up in time to make the seven thirty bus.”

Now that part wasn’t exactly true. Niall actually didn’t have work today. Niall wasn’t even actually in the country of England either. His parents having bought him a ticket home to Mullingar for a four day holiday, which who was he to refuse a free flight home. But Louis didn’t have to know that.

“I’ve already paid for them n’ everything. I’d be a shame to waste them, so-”

“You want me to drink it then. That one?” Louis nodded to the cups that Harry held in his hands, balancing them on his knees.

Handing one over immediately, “yes, yeah. I mean it’s yours, here.”

Louis’ small gloved hands quickly wrapped around the drink, like he was trying to absorb some of the heat that was muffled by the cardboard material of the cup. Their fingers brushing, making Harry’s heart thud an extra beat as he went to sip at his own. Swishing the spiced liquid around is his mouth before swallowing, letting it warm his chest up. Watching Louis do the same from the corner of his eye.

“Oh. Think you’ve given me yours on accident.” Louis mumbled, sniffling again.

Turning to face the smaller boy, not quite understanding “sorry?”

Harry’s eyes went wide when Louis pointed a finger at the two X’s scribbled on the cup in his hands. Shit.

“Jackson.” Harry sighed, feeling a little guilty. Pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers briefly before looking back at Louis.

“He your boyfriend or-”

Shaking his head an insane amount of times, “no. No, he’s just-he’s ah-a friend. Barista actually. He just makes my drinks and stuff.”

Taking another sip, “barista. Wow.”

They sat like that until the bus rounded the corner. Louis, in a small voice, thanked Harry for the free drink. And then made his way to his usual seat alone. Unravelling his earbuds from his coat pocket, and shutting his eyes. Tucking both knees up under his chin.

Harry didn’t follow him. Staying where he was up front, analyzing everything that had happened in the last twenty five minutes in his head. Pulling out his phone just to look busy, sending a quick one handed text to Gemma. Fingers slowly defrosting themselves from their numb state.

“The extra drink idea worked. Thanks. x”

-

Harry loved his job, like if there were Workaholic Anonymous meetings he’d probably pull an intervention on himself and go to one. And he took it very seriously. Except having a wild Niall Horan’s bum on his desk, playing drums with a set of pens, wasn’t helping him concentrate on acting like a professional.

“You promised me lunch the day that I returned back to you. So I’m here now. Where’s my lunch?” That was how Niall announced his return, wearing a visitors badge and waltzing straight into the editing room where Harry was comparing what Niall said was, “the same exact photo,” when really it wasn’t, for an advert concept meant to be presented by tomorrow. His Irish accent back to being thicker than ever after his holiday home if it were even remotely possible.

“Food.” Niall whispered closely to Harry’s ear, his warm breath tickling him and making him squirm in his swivel chair.

“In a second.” Harry hissed back, saving all his changes and shutting his laptop turning all his attention on Niall. “Alright, you prick, where should we go.” Harry had a feeling he knew exactly where they’d end up.

“Can we check out the employee cafeteria? I never get to go there anymore.” Niall begged like a five year old. Harry missed him.

Rolling his eyes, pulling the stylis out from where it had been tucked behind his ear and setting it on his desk, “that’s because the last time we went you took the “all you can eat policy” a little too far.” Wincing at the memory of his last lunch visit.

Niall hopped off of Harry’s desk, taking that as a yes and began walking in the direction of the elevator. Pressing the down button, “people shouldn’t say “all you can eat,” if it’s not true. Just sayin.”

“Well, I don’t think they expected that a bottomless pit like yourself would ever show up to the challenge. Probably scared them off.”

Niall just beamed like he was being given the sweetest compliment in the world.

“So,” Niall pressed, waving his third slice of Margherita pizza in front of his face, “you haven’t seen him since two days ago?”

The moment they’d both sat down, Niall’s tray piled high with enough food to feed a family of five let alone one guy, he’d been dying to know if Harry had made the move on Louis yet. And of course Harry wouldn’t deny him his right of knowing how things had gone the other day.

He’d thought things had gone well, ready to start up another short lived conversation with Louis the very next morning. Maybe buy two muffins and play up the whole, “I got this for Niall but he isn’t here, do you want it,” card, one last time before it got suspicious. But he didn’t see him come home that night, or show up the next day.

“Have you ever considered that maybe he’s just visiting a friend or something out here? Or never came back on the bus because he maybe hooked up with someone so taking the train and bus that far out of central London didn’t make sense?”

Putting down a forkful of summer salad, the thought of Louis hooking up with someone being the reason for not showing his face for two days made his stomach churn. Which was a little strange. Since it felt a little bit like jealousy, the way his teeth went to clamp down on his tongue. Jaw tight, “I’ve thought of all of those possibilities, thanks Niall.”

His sudden change in attitude clearly noticed, Niall changed the subject like it was no big deal. Except Harry didn’t want to change the subject. But they had already moved on from thoughts of where Louis could be, to how Niall should let his darker roots grow out more.

After catching up for an hour after they’d eaten, Harry motioned that he really had to get back to work. Walking with Niall to the front entrance to hand his visitors pass back in.

“Thanks for lunch H. I probably won’t see you at home for dinner tonight, ‘ve made some plans to meet up with the lads from work for a few beers. So don’t wait up yeah? I’ll just crash at one of their places if I miss the last train out.”

Nodding, giving him a hug, “welcome home mate.”

Niall gave Harry one last salute goodbye, middle finger included because hey, it’s Niall. He didn’t care what others thought. At least, not all of the time.

Harry turned and made his way back to his desk. Thoughts back on filters, because did anyone ever use Kelvin? And Louis, and crop sizes, and Louis, and meeting times set for tomorrow, and oh maybe his mind drifted to Louis again for a moment.

-

By the time Harry was finally stepping over the threshold of his flat, keys dropping in the bowl near the door, boots being kicked off, it was nearly eleven. He’d worked later than he was supposed to. Everyone having gone home at around six but Harry couldn’t find any reason not to stay and work on other things. So he did.

He snacked on bell pepper strips and answered emails until the cleaning lady came to disrupt him with her giant monster of a vacuum. Forcing him to give in and go home. Stopping to pick up some ingredients for a stew from Whole Foods on the way to the station. Spending a little more money on organic carrots than he’d planned but knowing it’d make the final result way better.

Flicking on the lights, Harry set the grocery bags down on the kitchen table and got to work. Pushing up the sleeves of his dark cable knit to wash his hands, slipping off his rings from his fingers, was when he heard the rain pick up outside.

It looked like the window in their sitting room had been left open, the screen doing nothing to keep any water from sneaking in. Soaking the floor in miniature individual puddles, getting the bottoms of Harry’s socks wet as he attempted to shut the stubborn thing closed before the rain flooded their entire apartment. He knew he was exaggerating a little but hey, rain and wood floors didn’t mix either way. Finally slamming it shut with one last tensed shouldered shove, but before he could lock it, the 11:45pm bus’s bright headlights came blaring to it’s stop. Claiming Harry’s attention.The brakes screeching like nails on a chalkboard, echoing out on the empty street. And just out of pure habit, Harry waited, just to see if anyone was getting off.

The second the bus pulled away was when Harry caught sight of him through the thick raindrops streaking up the glass. Louis, standing still, like he hadn’t moved an inch once he’d stepped off, holding his skateboard above his head in a terrible attempt to keep himself dry.

“Should’ve known it was going to rain Lou, what is it with you and being unprepared for weather conditions?” Harry scolded like Louis could hear him. Which obviously he couldn’t because he was inside with the heater on full and a stew about to be thrown together. Where as Louis was outside, probably getting drenched to the bone. A low rumbling of thunder proving his point that Louis shouldn’t even be out there. That he was being crazy by just standing around and should get a move on before the storm really hit.

It took a minute for his brain to actually form the thought, too busy tutting the smaller boy for thinking that a long piece of wood with wheels could ever keep his clothes from soaking through. When he finally figured out what he could be doing instead of staring out a window he smacked the palm of his hand to his head. “You own an umbrella you imbecile. Jezzus.”

Sprinting to his room Harry grabbed his small Totes umbrella from where it hung neatly in his closet. Charging back to the window to make sure Louis was still there, which he was, Harry hopped around as he put his Nikes on and ran out the door. Not caring that he’d left it unlocked. He was on a bloody brilliant mission. One for the ages.

When he’d finally made it to the ground floor, panting a little from the sudden exertion he was inflicting on himself, Harry stepped out into the pouring rain. Opening his umbrella and holding it above himself. Looking across the street he could now see that Louis had disappeared from underneath the lamppost. His heart sinking ten feet below the wet pavement he was standing on because mother nature was really providing him with the most charming moment of the century. And now, Louis was nowhere to be seen.

“You looking for someone?” A shout from somewhere to his left grabbed his attention.

When Harry turned to find the source he found Louis, hunched under the overhang of the building next door in the shadows, hugging his skateboard to him like it was giving him some warmth. Looking like a very unhappy cat that had just been forced to unwillingly take a swim. And it was endearing as fuck. Making Harry’s insides coo at him all backed up into a corner on his tippy toes.

Taking a step towards him, clever reply at the ready. “Yeah, I was actually. But he’s gone now. You might have seen him, just got off the bus not five minutes ago. I thought he’d maybe like to come inside and wait out the rain since he didn’t look like he had an umbrella. Did you see which direction he might’ve run off to?” A boom of thunder followed after he’d spoken, Louis’ body visibly tensing up at the noise. His whimper reaching Harry’s ears over the loud thudding of rain on the thin material of his umbrella.

So out of natural protective instincts, Harry quickly walked all the way over to where Louis stood. Close enough to where his umbrella could cover them both, looking down at Louis’ shivering frame. Gently Harry took a huge risk and reached a hand out between them, hovering for a moment, waiting for Louis to react to the closeness, or flinch away, but he didn’t. He just stood very still apart from the shaking, before letting Harry’s fingers softly squeeze, in what was meant to be a comforting action, at his sharp shoulder blade. Feeling him tremble under his touch.

“Are you afraid of thunder?”

Louis shook his head, but Harry was unconvinced. So he tried another question.

“How far away do you live from here?”

Shuffling his feet, eyes downcast like he was ashamed of something, but not making a move to push Harry’s hand off of him just yet, “about another thirty minutes if I’m on my board.”

What came out of Harry’s mouth next would only allow a “yes” sort of answer. Because now that he knew how much further Louis had to go he wouldn’t agree to a “no”, not until the storm let up at least. Because Louis might deny his fear until he’s blue in the face, but Harry had no plans on letting him stay outside and endure this alone.

“Do you want to come up and dry off? I live just in this building here.”

And then Louis’ head jerked up, blue eyes locking with Harry’s in a desperate plea. Making Harry’s breath catch because he’d never seen someone look at him like the way Louis just did. Like he needed nothing more than to have Harry offer that to him.

“If it’s no trouble.”

“Of course it isn’t. Come on, let’s get you cleaned up yeah?”

Harry ushered Louis into the safety of his apartment building. One hand still barely touching Louis’ shoulder, but not letting go of him either. Even when they stood in the elevator, puddles forming a wet trail with every step of Louis’ shoes as they walked down the hall, the realization that Louis was on his way up to his flat, Harry’s hand didn’t leave Louis’ body once. Just feather light touches all the way to his door. Reluctantly letting go of his hold on him so they could take their shoes off. Harry padding down the short hall to the linen closet. Leaving Louis to stand alone for a moment.

“It’s okay, I wouldn’t invite you in if I thought you’d steal anything.” Harry returned to him, holding out a fresh pink towel. But not after he’d taken a minute to just breathe as he sifted through their laundry to find something that would keep Louis from getting pneumonia.

Louis was there, in his kitchen, wet clothes sticking to every flat line, curve, and crease that made up his body. Every quick breath he took was visible to Harry from down the hall. His tiny feet keeping him balanced on the linoleum as he stood like a sardine stuck in a tin. The look on his face showing Harry just how nervous he was about being in someone elses home. Like he thought if he touched anything it would break and he’d be chucked out into the thunder and lightning for being incompetent.

Waking up this morning, Harry would’ve never seen this coming. Not even if it stood right in his face, or was on a big flashing sign while he was on his way to work saying, in big neon letters, “Harry Edward Styles, you lucky bastard! Louis is going to be in your kitchen at 12am. You’re welcome. Kiss kiss.”

Louis took the towel with a shiver in his grip, “thanks,” and then went straight to work with his hair. Rubbing the towel all over, sending each strand to stand stiff in all different directions. Shaking his head like a shaggy dog, letting his fringe finally fall flat, no swirls, or gelled tidal waves like Harry was so used to seeing.

The pink towel having moved to other parts of him. Drying off the cold rain from his arms and neck. Picking at his shirt between two fingers, pulling it out like the rough cotton was becoming uncomfortable every time it would return to it’s clingy shape on his body.

“Do you-” Harry cleared his throat attempting to not just blatantly stare at Louis too much. His soft tummy and curved hips making Harry feel kinda warm. Or maybe the heater was just on too high. “Do you wanna borrow some clothes? I could throw yours in the dryer.”

“I’m not keeping you from anything am I?” Louis spoke up as Harry led him to his room. Silently he began thanking the lord that he’d cleaned it yesterday, because he hated having unexpected guests see a pair of dirty pants hanging off his bed. Or anything else that might give them the idea that he sleeps naked, which he did. But he didn’t need people having that visual in their heads as they surveyed his room.

“No, I was just getting home actually.” Harry pulled open a drawer and tried to find something that could fit Louis without drowning him in fabric. Handing over a soft grey V-neck, arm stuck out behind him as he moved to find Louis a pair of pants. “Boxers okay? They’re clean I swear.”

“Boxers are fine, yeah. Maybe sweatpants if you have any? M’kinda cold.” Louis sniffled like it would back up his statement.

Turning around with both requests in hand, a soft pair of black Nike sweatpants and dark navy blue boxers, Harry’s eyes were met with Louis taking his clothes off. His naked torso dripping with leftover rain from the shirt he was struggling to get over his head. Ribs showing as he stretched upwards, skin tan and covered in goosebumps. Collarbones decorated with thick, swirling font, black words reading “It Is What It Is.” He was fucking beautiful and Harry had to look away as his face emerged from the confines of his shirt. Letting it drop with a wet sound onto the floor.

“I’ll start the dryer, if you’d just bring me your clothes when you’re done?” The swooping feeling in his stomach wasn’t going away after five steps out of his room. Or after he’d pulled Niall’s leftover clothes from days before that he’d left in the dryer. Getting it ready for Louis’. It wasn’t like he didn’t enjoy the way his insides felt like they were being put through the biggest theme park ride of it’s life, twisting and dropping repeatedly. It was just all very fresh and new to him, the way these feelings were connecting themselves to Louis.

“How did you know I was out there?”

Louis was sat in Harry’s chair at the kitchen table, watching him cut up celery, carrots, and small red skin potatoes on a board. Harry had asked if he wanted to help make dinner, Louis declined. Offered to make the tea but said he could only make one meal and he’d only done it one time. Other than that, he said he could make a mean piece of toast with Marmite. That’s as far as using kitchen cooking utensils and appliances were able to get him. So Harry worked alone, prepping the stew base on the stove. And cutting up chunks of beef. Glad that Louis was being honest and not wanting to burn down his kitchen. Glad that Louis was in his kitchen in general.

“To be honest?” Harry looked up from the knife in his hands, “I had left the window open and the rain was getting in. The bus pulled up just as I shut it and then I saw you.”

“I’m not a fan of carrots.” Louis interjected, like they weren’t just talking about how Harry was possibly watching him from his sitting room window, and didn’t just “see” him as he was shutting it.

“Well,” Harry turned around to face the stove, scraping everything from the cutting board into the broth and putting a lid on the pot, “they’re good for your eyesight.” Popping a leftover carrot chunk in his mouth and chewing. Smiling at Louis’ “harumph” sort of attitude as he sipped his tea at the table.

Harry’s clothes were definitely still too big for Louis. Even in his smallest shirt, he still noticed the collar slip over Louis’ shoulder a bit. The strings of the sweatpants pulled tight holding them up on his hips. The legs too long, getting baggy and making thick cotton paws out of Louis’ feet under the table. His toes barely visible below the hem.

“Want to watch a film while we wait for dinner?”

Harry had grown so comfortable with having Louis around over the past few months, seeing him every morning and night, that he wasn’t so nervous to speak up anymore. It was nice not having to worry about saying something stupid. Because he knew if he did, Louis would change the subject. Like he was giving Harry a get out of jail free card, and would pretend he “didn’t just hear that”. They had a nice system going and it felt so natural, falling into place so easily. He would move, Louis would move.

“What do you want to watch?” Harry sunk down into the corner of their couch. Pulling a throw over his legs, turning to look at Louis who was curling himself up like he would on the bus. Knees tucked up to his chin. Cheek resting on his knees, lips turned up, fringe soft and brushed flat with small fingers. Harry swallowed hard, shifting in his spot a little.

“You should eat carrots more often. I’ll pick mine out and give them to you.”

That took Harry by surprise, he wasn’t really sure where that came from really. The subject on Louis’ least favorite vegetable having passed when they made their way to the tv. Plus, it sounded like Louis was assuming that he’d already been invited for dinner. Which he was, of course he was. Their wordless agreement of, “I can’t cook to save my life, that’s okay I’ll do it you watch,” sort of sealed the deal in Harry’s opinion.

“What? Why do you say that?”

“You say they’re good for your eyes right?” Louis questioned, his own back on the screen watching the Netflix menu change titles automatically.

“That’s just what my mum used to tell me to get me to eat them yeah. But you didn’t answer my question. Why do you ask?”

“Because I like the color green.” Louis sniffled, making Harry worry about his body temperature and if he was alright rather than realizing what it was that Louis was trying to say. Only a small part of him tingling under the compliment that Louis had discreetly given. 

He had a strange way with words, and he had the ability to change the subject in an instant but make it seem like it was meant to go in that direction. It was for sure something Harry had to get used to.

“Are you still cold? You can share this blanket with me if you want I-”

Without hesitation or giving Harry a chance to finish his question, Louis was crawling down the rest of the couch, taking over what was left of the space between them. His tea forgotten on the coffee table, left alone, and way out of reach. Picking up part of the blanket and slipping underneath it, pulling it up to his nose, giving a pleased little sound from the back of his throat. Making Harry give his own shiver that shot straight down his spine and further down south. Forcing him to shift in his spot again as Louis’ shoulder touched his, their legs lined up with each others. Louis’ cold, clammy skin, shocking Harry for a moment as he tried to figure out what to do with his hands. Finally draping one arm over the back of the couch, just inches from actually falling onto Louis’ shoulders. And leaving the other hand to sit on his knee. Biting his lip a little because he’d never thought about what it would feel like to have Louis be this close to him. Well he did, and it was one night, and he felt really weird after. Like Louis was something else, not just a wet dream. But he couldn’t figure out what that “something else,” was yet. Gemma said he was gone for Louis, Niall said he was too. But it didn’t feel like the other times that he’d been with someone. Louis was different, the feelings that were attached to him were different.

Harry thought about these things, and over analyzed his life decisions, while the movie began to play. He wasn’t even sure if either of them were watching, or what the movie was about. Too lost in his own head to even see who was playing the lead. He didn’t really notice anything that was going on around him until he felt Louis slump over a little. Eyes shut, and mouth slack.

And Harry froze, because now Louis was moving, a small fist grabbing at the front of Harry’s shirt, and curling up into his side. Like Louis was subconsciously chasing Harry’s body heat, still too cold for comfort. Head resting directly over Harry’s jackrabbiting heart, his slow breaths doing nothing to calm Harry’s quick ones.

Harry was scared. He was just now realizing that he had feelings for this person that was curled up against him. Damp, towel dried hair, making a wet spot through his shirt. And that was a terrifying thing. Having this much investment in someone, it was dangerous.

Especially because Louis had no idea how much he felt, how badly it made his lungs hurt from the loss of breath every time he saw him get off the bus at night. How much his gut would twist into knots all day until he’d see him again in the morning. Heading in the same direction as him. Thanking the great Queen of England and the local crime watch department, that he’d made it home safely. Because he worried and bit on his lip until it bled that something might happen to him in the night.

This was it. This was what it felt like to really care for someone so deeply that you’d stand in front of them as a car drives past in the rain, to protect them from getting drenched by a Pacific Ocean sized puddle. Or to drastically change your wardrobe, and shave your head, because that person had mentioned in an offhand comment, not directed towards you, that it was “kinda hot.” Or who, if they asked, you’d drain your entire savings account for, just to help them out of a bind making you flat broke and in debt for ten years after. But none of that would matter, because you were doing it for them. Because that’s what unrequited love is.

He was stupidly and blindly loving Louis purely because he loved him. Not caring if his affections would be recognized in return.

And that’s what Harry was feeling, and had been feeling since he’d winced when Louis fell off his skateboard on his bum. Leaving him restless in his bed for the rest of the night. Wondering why he felt like he needed to help him. A stranger. Someone who he could’ve just forgotten about and left it alone. But he didn’t.

Gemma was right. His generation was stunted because the idea of falling in love at first sight and having that person return the gesture had corrupted the idea of someone selflessly loving someone without asking for anything back. Louis could be with someone else for all Harry knew, but he didn’t care. As long as Louis was happy and loved and cared for. Then that’s how Harry would choose to love him.

A shaky breath, “Louis?” Harry shook Louis’ shoulder gently. Earning a tired humm in reply, the heels of Louis’ hands rubbing at his eyes as he slowly came to. Realizing where he’d ended up falling asleep and sitting up ramrod straight. But not moving too far, like he’d grown too attached to being so warm.

“Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to do that. Falling asleep on near strangers isn’t really a habit I’m known to practice. You okay?” Louis was looking up at Harry, with such raw vulnerability. It only made Harry want him more. Almost to the point of hurting.

Instead he pushed himself up from off the couch, stumbling over the area rug in an attempt to create more space. Not that he wanted to, but he just needed it to get a clear head. Having no idea what his next move should be. How should he take things with Louis now. Everything was so different since ten minutes ago when he’d realized what Louis was to him.

“I should check on dinner. It’s fine, keep watching the film.” Deep breath in, long exhale, deep breath in, long exhale. Harry repeated that to himself like a prayer as he stirred their dinner. Watching it boil and simmer around the wooden spoon he was using. Counting the bits of vegetable that were floating around on the top. He’d gotten to the tenth chunk of celery before Louis got to him.

“Harry?”

“Yeah?” Harry’s grip got tighter on the spoon, his back getting tense because now Louis’ hand was on it. Fingertips sending a spark through his entire body, lighting every nerve on fire. He could already feel his resolve cracking. So much for loving Louis from afar.

“It doesn’t bother me that you have the perfect view of me from your window. Like, I actually feel safer at night when you do. Because, I see you. Whenever I get off the bus, I can see you watching. It’s just, I’m not all that big, it’s physically one of the most noticeable things about me that most people pick out right away. So if I had to throw a punch it wouldn’t be all that helpful in a fight. And we don’t really talk much. Or, I haven’t really said much to you but I thought I’d tell you now that your back is turned. Because it’s easier for me to talk like this when I don’t have to see the person’s reaction after. But, anyways, I just figured you would want to hear some sort of thank you? I guess? And I’m here, and I fucking hate thunder, and I have a shit immune system so I probably would’ve caught some sort of cold by tomorrow if you hadn’t gone out like some sort of, I don’t know, you’re just a good person Harry. Okay?”

Harry processed every word that Louis spoke, memorizing all that he was saying so he could never forget it. In the past two months, that’s the most Louis had ever said to him. And it, god it was so perfect. Just letting him ramble, sounding so quiet, and timid, and unsure of himself and of what he was saying. How hard it must’ve been for him to spit that out what with his shy reputation when it came to getting to know people, letting them in, introducing himself, that Harry had taken note of since day one.

“Can I turn around now?” Harry waited, response ready on his lips, no turning back.

“Are you going to like, freak out at what I just said? Because it’s really just how I talk sometimes. Shit just sorta slipps out and I can’t stop once I’ve started. My mum always said I’m just a talker when I want to be. Talktalktalktalk mmph-”

And they were kissing, just like that. Harry couldn’t think of another way to get this new side of Louis to stop. Not that he wanted Louis to stop talking exactly because Queen Mary’s pants it was fucking adorable. But how else was he supposed to get his word in either? But then again, actions are always way better than words.

And Louis was kissing back with just as much force as Harry was giving. It wasn’t soft and slow, it was needy and Louis’ body was deflating into Harry’s. Like all the hours that passed between them in two months were exploding out of him. Out of the both of them. Filling the flat up from floor to ceiling with pent up emotions.

The pair of them too shy, or too stupid to give in and strip down all the bull shit and the hiding. And just show each other how they really feel up until now. Their lips hot, moulding together and breaking only for a second before returning to each other like magnets. Louis’ steady hands unbuttoning Harry’s flannel so skillfully, sliding it off his shoulders, and Harry let it fall to their feet. The feeling of Louis’ fingers skirting up underneath his undershirt making his abb muscles flex tight, and his blood pump loud in his ears.

“Fuck, Harry.” Louis practically whined as he let himself be backed up against the kitchen table. Harry quickly lifting Louis to sit on it, putting his fingers into the belt loops of his jeans and pulling Louis forward, the sensation of how quickly everything was happening fogging up his mind. Growing hard as Louis’ thick thighs wrapped around his waist. Ankles hooking together behind him, pulling him even closer. Making him groan out as they connected, Louis panting and grinding small circles against Harry. Letting his head fall back, and Harry immediately licked a fat strip up the expanse of it. Feeling Louis’ pulse under his lips as he bit the thin skin between his teeth. Sucking a deep mark just underneath his jaw, in the space where his neck and shoulder met, marking him up. Making him cry out at each one that Harry made.

Harry kept one hand flat on Louis’ back, holding him upright. The other in a tight grip just underneath Louis’ knee, forcing his leg to stay hiked up on his hip as he thrusted forward. Breathing hotly into Louis’ neck, his curls sticking to his forehead, “I need you, needed you. Now. Right now I- ” Harry choked on his words. Louis understanding him completely, his hand having moved in between them in seconds. Cupping Harry over his jeans, pressing the heel of his hand into him, making him spurt wetly in his pants. Precum making it easier, the dry cotton becoming less rough as he pushed, fucking himself on Louis’ hand. A wet patch having formed the minute his lips were on Louis’ and he’d gotten him up on the kitchen table. The worlds most solid, best homecoming gift, kitchen table to grace Great Britain. Harry would have to thank his mum for it again, she could really pick out furniture. 

“M’yeah?” Louis mumbled around another kiss, letting Harry slip his tongue past to tangle up with his. Feeling the wet warmth of Harry, wanting to feel it around him. Pulling him in until his nose touched the light patch of hair just above his cock. Letting the tip reach the back of Harry’s throat. Giving him the humm to fuck his mouth slowly, force tears to cling to Harry’s eyelashes as he took him further. The thought of that making Louis thrust forward a little harder, twitching. The zipper of Harry’s jeans rubbing hard into the palm of his hand. Making it burn a little as his pace quickened, “Ah, Harry, nhhh-ah”.

“Shit. We-” Harry broke, his body hating himself as he did. Needing release, he’d been so close, so ready to just cum in his jeans like a hormonal sixteen year old. Louis did that much to him he would’ve done it with zero shame. His hips stuttering to a hold, panting heavily, “we shouldn’t. You’re-you’re more than just some orgasm in my kitchen. You’re-fuck. When I say I need you,” Harry pulled back so that he could really look into Louis’ eyes. His blue pupils blown out in lust to just a thin ring of deep cerulean. Lips bitten, puffy and red, his hand moving away from him now. Not looking hurt, or rejected, or even offended by how Harry’s explanation came out sounding a little rude. But more like understanding, like maybe, well obviously the cat was out of the bag so to speak, and Harry knew that yes, they were both on the same page. They clearly felt the same way for each other.

“When I say I need you I really mean more than this. I-god this is crazy because we haven’t got a clue about what the others personal life is like. You could be a pyromaniac for all I know. But I-”

Louis leaned in, giving Harry the first slow kiss shared between them, “I know. I get it. It’s okay. We’ll talk, I promise, I trust you, it’s stupid but I do. I don’t know you, but I do. Just-just please, I need-I know you do too, I need you just as much. Please Harry, just, please.”

Louis’ voice grew small as he almost begged, hands tugging at his curls, mouth all over Harry like he’d given up on speech. Harry just wrapped both hands underneath Louis’ thighs, and lifted him up. Loving the feel of Louis’ mouth attached to his neck at the sudden change in seating. Louis was so light, Harry easily held him up with one hand, turned off the stove, dinner could wait, and the lights before walking down the hall to his room. Louis having stayed silent and tucked up against his chest the entire time. Hands never leaving Harry’s hair.

Once Harry had reached the end of his bed, kicking the door shut behind him with his foot, he gently set Louis down. Laying him on his back in the center of the bed before climbing over him. Long legs straddling short ones, keeping his hands on either side of Louis’ head, fingers pinching at a soft chunk of fringe that was splayed out on the comforter.

“This is mental.” Harry mouthed around Louis’ shoulder, his lips immediately attaching themselves there like they weren’t in his control anymore. Apart of him thought that maybe Louis’ hands were in the same state. Slipping under Harry’s shirt and gripping onto his sides, palms laying flat over his chest, making him shudder. His body feeling like a grenade and Louis had pulled the pin. Except there was no timer so he could go off at any second.

Looking down at Louis, pliant and small beneath him, grey shirt riding up underneath his arms, tan skin exposed and covered in a thin layer of sweat.

“I like mental.” Louis hummed, twirling a curl between two fingers at the side of Harry’s head. Eyes following as Harry moved down lower, licking just at the top hem of Louis’ sweatpants. Tasting him, biting at the softness of his tummy, deciding it was one of his favorite bits of Louis. Tracing the letters of his tattoo with just the tip of his tongue, letting it trail down after the last letter to tease his nipple. Sucking it and feeling Louis’ legs fall open around him, his back arching into Harry’s mouth. Getting him riled up.

Gasping as Harry pressed down hard, lining them up and grinding roughly against him. Rocking into him and licking at his nipple making it hard, rolling it between his teeth gently.

“Shit, it’s so hot, your mouth is so-ahhh HarryHarry fuckahh-”

“Mmm so vocal Lou, it’s something I’ll have to get used to.” Harry moved back up to lazily kiss him. Slowing down a little, still lightly rutting up against him, trying to regain control of himself. Reminding himself that if they were ever going to get eachother off, that it had to be special, and they at least needed a good 48 hours to process everything that was going on between them. Together.

“Want you to touch me so bad Harry, suck me off, make me cu-”

Harry cut Louis off with another sweet kiss, tracing his puffy bottom lip with his tongue, listening as Louis’ breath hitched. “Relax, I’ve got you, calm down yeah? I’ve got you.”

Louis just groaned in frustration, the need to be boneless making him restless. Hands holding tight to Harry’s shoulders, probably leaving bruises. Like he was afraid to touch himself because he was so desperate for Harry to be the one to do it. And it really was Harry’s fault for teasing him even when he had no intention of taking it all the way.

So he just kissed his eyelids which were shut tight, both temples, his nose, the corners of his mouth, all the way down his neck. Leaving a trail until Louis stopped trembling and his breathing slowed to a calm, even, rhythm. Shushing him and whispering encouraging words to bring him back whenever a whimper or a sob would escape from Louis’ lips.

“You’re a fucking tease Harry.” Louis sighed, pupils returning to a more noticeable blue, fingers tracing Harry’s butterfly tattoo once he’d gotten both their shirts off. Curled up into his side, their legs tangled up under the sheets.

It took a few minutes but eventually, after a well deserved slap to the cheek from Louis, Harry had gotten him to a less sexually driven state of mind. Louis’ sweatpants and Harry’s jeans thrown carelessly somewhere on Harry’s floor. The only light came from Harry’s fairy lights that he kept hung over a set of frames above his headboard. A collection of photos from Uni, holiday trips to Cannes with his family, one of him smiling, fingers in a peace sign, from that time he convinced himself he could sing and dress like a proper posh teen and forced his mum to drive him to the X Factor auditions when they came to town.

Photos that Harry promised he’d give a story to in great detail for Louis’ entertainment in the morning. Thinking of skipping out on work to spend the entire day learning who this person, that he loved so much, was. Which was insane because since when did he ever think about playing hookey from work? Never. Louis was already corrupting him, wrapping him tight around his little finger. He could almost feel it, and it made him smile involuntarily.

Huffing out a laugh as he watched the panels of his ceiling fan spin slowly, “I know, I’m guilty of giving you blueballs. But hey, at least we’re enduring it together.”

Harry waited until they stopped laughing to tag on something serious. “You know why I couldn’t right? Why I had to stop?”  
There was a long stretch of silence before Louis replied, his fingers still tracing their strange patterns on Harry’s skin. “Yeah. I actually kinda appreciate that you did. Like, you know, stop. Because, this, whatever we’re doing, needs time to adjust to the level we’ve sorta jumped to. Like, our heads haven’t fully caught up with our feelings. I’m still in a mental shock I guess, nothing bad.” Louis reassured Harry, giving him a light kiss to his neck. “It’s a very good thing. I just didn’t think we’d be here. Not for a while at least. I’m a shit flirt.”

“You’re not a shit flirt.” Harry pinched at Louis’ side getting a squeak in protest from him. So he’s ticklish there, Harry took note of that for another time. “It got you here didn’t it? So you can’t be all that out of practice.”

“Ha’yeah. I guess so. The fairy lights are a nice touch by the way. Really brings out that feminine side of you I never got to be introduced to.”

Harry just pulled Louis back into him tightly, kissing the top of his head and breathing him in.

“You won’t run away or anything if, you know, if you get introduced to a side of me that you find you don’t like?” He’d been worrying about that the entire time they’d been laying together. Nagging at the back of his mind, trying to ruin the good karma he’d worked so hard for, that was happening to him in the present.

“Why? Are you some sort of secret pro-knitter or a washed up old water polo player that I’ve never heard of?” Louis joked, laughing at his own smart mouth.

“No, of course not. I couldn’t knit a sweater even if I was dying of hypothermia and it was the only skill needed to save my life.”

Humming out a pleased little sigh, breath ghosting warm across Harry’s skin, “well then, there’s nothing to be worried about okay? I won’t run away unless you were either of those two things I listed off. Because I don’t think I could handle telling my mum that I’m seeing a guy who shells out 15 sweaters a day because it’s his hidden talent. She’d go ballistic.” Louis spoke around a yawn, voice suddenly getting slow like a warning bell that he was about to fall asleep. “You’d like her though. My mum I mean. N’d all my sisters, they’ll want to marry you once they get a hold of you.”

The fact that Louis said that he was “seeing Harry,” and “wanted his family to meet Harry,” made him feel so happy. And a lot more relaxed, muscles draining from their tense worried state. They still had so much to talk about. But, Louis had just confirmed that he’d planned on introducing Harry to his family. To the people that were most important to him. And that meant that they had time. A shit load of time, to just be together. It was an incredible feeling.

“Harry?”

“Yeah?” Harry mumbled with his mouth to Louis’ head. Arms flexing tighter as he tried to encompass Louis even more. He was so obsessed with how small he was, making it a thing in seconds. Yeah, their size difference was definitely now, a thing.

“Can we eat the stew for breakfast?”

Harry could hear in Louis’ whisper of a voice that he was on the very edge of sleep. Body weight getting only slightly, noticeably, heavier on top of Harry’s chest.

Giving Louis one last kiss to his head, chuckling at how cute Louis’ request seemed, “yeah. We can have dinner for breakfast if you want baby. Whatever you want.” He could feel his eyes drooping with oncoming sleep as well.

“I like that, what you just-” Louis yawned and nuzzled against Harry, “called me.”

“Goodnight baby.” Harry whispered, drifting off along with Louis. The thought of waking up and knowing that Louis would still be there and not think that this was all some big, fat, mistake, keeping him grounded and just happy. He was really fucking happy.

And before it was lights out, he silently thanked his gangly legs and terrible balance for making him bump into Louis just two and a half months ago. Never more grateful for pigeon toes and zero grace, now that he had Louis.

Thank the fucking fates for that bump.


End file.
